He heard movement outside the door, shoved the boots under the bed and lay back as Kevin opened the door.
“What the hell, man?” Kevin asked, and saw the closet door was open.
Shit.
With a scowl, the younger man went to close it. “Sorry, man. No way out. Not this time.” He opened the door again, pulled out the jacket and took it with him, locking the door behind him.
Double shit.
So he had shoes, but he would freeze to death.
Then he sat up and considered the bedspread.
“I don’t think this is a road,” Peyton said through clenched teeth. She had to clench them—she’d already bitten the inside of her cheek twice and her tongue once.
“It is hard to see without headlights,” Deputy Simpson admitted cheerily.
“If we use headlights, they’ll see us coming,” Devlin reminded them as he maneuvered the vehicle directly from one bump to the next. “I’m on the road most of the time.”
“And when we find them? Then what?” Peyton asked. “They might be armed. They might hurt Gabe.”
“First of all, you’ll stay in the car,” Devlin said. “You will not get out, do you understand?”
But what if Gabe needed her? He’d been drugged, unconscious, and God knew what else they’d done to him. Still, she had no doubt Devlin would set her out on the side of the road if she disobeyed, so she said, “Of course.”
“The deputy and I will take care of the O’Douls, and bring out Cooper.”
“You see the fire and put it out,” she murmured, thinking of Gabe’s philosophy, and how easy it made a difficult job sound.
“Exactly,” Devlin muttered.
A few minutes later, they rounded a corner and moonlight glinted off the bumper of a vehicle.
A big black dually. Devlin immediately killed the engine, dropped the sedan into neutral and slid back about fifty feet.
“There,” he whispered, as if the O’Douls could hear them. He lifted the radio to his mouth—no cell service out here. “We found the truck, found a cabin. Lights on inside. Deputy Simpson and I are going in. We need back up.”
The call was acknowledged and the two men drew their guns. Quickly, Devlin reached back to flip off the interior light just as Simpson opened his door.
“Stay. Here,” he reiterated. “I don’t want to shoot you.”
“Don’t want to be shot,” she acknowledged, but dug her fingers into the back of the seat. How was she going to sit here while they went in for Gabe and she couldn’t see anything?
Gabe heard the car out front and eased to the window. Kim and Kevin probably didn’t have accomplices, but Gabe didn’t want some innocent person who just happened upon the cabin to be hurt. No doubt the siblings would take action to protect themselves. He tried the window, but it was swollen shut.
One of the men who got out of the car wore a cap and crouched low. The other seemed familiar, but it was too dark to identify him. Still, they moved cautiously, and hope flared. They knew what to expect, they had to be cops.
Movement in the next room told him Kim and Kevin had heard the car too. Kim’s voice was soft but in her panic an octave higher than normal, and Gabe couldn’t make out her words.
He grabbed the mangled pillow from the bed, folded it against the window and shoved his elbow against it. The tinkle of glass hitting the front porch was louder than he expected. The men outside stilled, Kim and Kevin quieted, before Kevin’s heavy footsteps made their way toward his door.
Crap. The broken area of the window was nowhere near big enough for him to climb out, especially without more protection for his privates. He moved behind the door, wishing for a weapon, but only had surprise on his side.
He dove for the boots, tossed one through the broken window so it landed with a thump outside—maybe Kevin would think he’d gone out, giving him more of an edge of surprise.
The younger man flung open the bedroom door, face tight with rage, and Gabe used the other boot as a club, swinging it hard against the boy’s temple. The rage slackened to stunned as the kid dropped to the floor.
Stupid kid. He stepped over the boy’s body and into the living room, where Kim turned, holding a gun in front of her with both hands, pointing at him. Son of a bitch. He did not want to get shot.
He raised his hands and let the boot drop to the floor. The girl was too damn shaky with the gun.
“What are we going to do here, Kim?” he asked, infusing a calm he didn’t feel into his voice.
“Where’s Kevin?”
He jerked a thumb over his shoulder. “In there. You want to check, see if he’s okay? I hit him pretty hard.”
Indecision flickered across her face. “No. I need you to go back in there so I can lock you in.”
“The cops are here, Kim. They’re just outside the door. You heard them pull up.”
As he spoke, he moved toward her slowly, cautiously, a hand extended for the gun. God, she was just a kid, a crazy kid who had made a hell of a mistake. He sensed her despair, understood the trapped look in her eyes. And damn, for all he’d cursed whoever had set that fire, sympathy overruled anger. She’d screwed up and ruined her young life, hers and her brother’s. She was out of options.
“No place to run.” He kept his voice as smooth as he could as his pulse pounded. “Don’t make things any worse.”
“I didn’t want it to go this far,” she whispered. “I’m so sorry.” And she turned the gun toward her own chin.
Jesus, not that. “Kim, no!” Time stretched. Splinters dug into the bottoms of his feet as he hurtled himself toward her, hit her arm as hard as he could, twisted it back and felt the bone snap just as the gun went off.
Peyton jerked at the sound of a gunshot, and her insides melted together. Not again, God, not again! She reached for the door handle of the rented sedan, only to find none. Stupid child locks. She rolled into the front seat and shoved out of the car, dropping to her knees in the dirt.
Devlin and Simpson ran toward the cabin, one on either side of the door. Okay, smart, stay out of the line of fire. But get to Gabe. Get to Gabe.
Devlin nodded to Simpson, who kicked in the door, and Devlin went in first, low. Peyton saw him relax, pull his gun up.
“Where’s the other one?”
He had to be asking Gabe. Gabe was all right. Thank God. She hurried forward, only to have Simpson swing on her, his gun pointed right at her head. Terror constricted her breathing, instinct froze her before recognition lit his eyes.
“Miss Michaels!”
Gabe’s head went up at the sound of Peyton’s name. He pried the gun from Kim’s slack hand—he’d broken her arm before she shot the hell out of the wall—and held it up by the grip for Devlin to take, but the agent was moving toward the front door.
“I told you to stay in the car.”
Then Peyton was in the doorway, ignoring the cop, of course, and heading straight toward Gabe. She dropped to the floor beside him. Elation at seeing her battled with wariness, and he caught her shoulders before she kissed him. Over the past few hours, he’d alternated between crippling hurt that she’d left him, and consuming anger. Neither of those emotions was present now, only a numbness, like a shield had come down in him.
Like after Jen left.
“What are you doing here?” He had trouble forcing the words out. “Finishing up your story?”
“No, it’s done.” She tried for a smile. “Is she okay?” She looked down at Kim, who lay glassy eyed on the floor.
“They’ll both be okay.” But he didn’t want to talk about that. He watched her, waited for her to look at him again. Needed her to.
She did, her dark eyes watery, pleading. “I know I hurt you,” she said, swallowing hard but not backing down. “I know I hurt you,” she repeated. “I was a coward. I was selfish. And I don’t deserve another chance. I freaked out, I know I did. Being in the hospital, being so scared—it brought everything back so clearly and it hurt so much and I had to get a
way before it could happen again. It was weird and it was stupid and it was not heroic at all. But I think you might love me. If I’m right, I hope you can give me another shot.” Her words tumbled over each other, as if stopping for breath would give him the excuse to interrupt, send her on her way. Suddenly unable to meet his eyes, she studied her hands. “I wouldn’t trade a day Dan and I had together, no matter how it hurt when he died.” She turned back at him now. “Realizing it made me realize you and I deserve the same chance. Will you give it to us?”
She’d closed her hands over his arm as she spoke, her palms no longer as soft and smooth as they’d been when he met her. Tougher hands, tougher heart, tougher woman. And she wanted to be his. And damn it, as much as she’d hurt him, he wanted it too.
He couldn’t believe he was having this conversation with her on his knees in a crummy cabin, while he was wearing a hospital gown. Candles—and at least underwear—should be required for declarations like this. “I left the fire service,” he told her quietly. “I gave Jen my resignation at the hospital. I was coming to Chicago tomorrow.”
She went as white as if he’d struck her. “You were coming to Chicago? Wait. You left the fire service?”
“Well, yeah. I knew you worried—”
“Gabe, you can’t do that!” Her voice was shrill in the small room, and drew the attention of the cops.
He held up a soothing hand. “Peyton—”
“You are not going to change who you are for me. You are the man I love, just as you are.” Tears streamed down her face, and she couldn’t seem to work her tongue around the words. “I don’t want you to quit.”
“I don’t want to be away from you for the summer,” he said, his own voice thick.
“You won’t be away from me. I’m going to get my red card renewed. I’m coming with you.”
His heart tripped at the words, and he couldn’t stop himself from touching her another minute. He smoothed her hair against her head, feeling the strands catch on his calluses. “Are you out of your mind? Your writing—”
“I can write anywhere, Chicago, a tent, Albuquerque. You tell me where, and that’s where.”
“You’ve lost your mind.” Emotion choked him as he pulled her close and pressed his face into her hair. “Jesus, we’ve both lost our minds.”
“Just kiss me,” she murmured against his throat. “And then it will be all right.”
He eased back just enough so her mouth found his, hopeful, seeking, happy.
“Too bad Kim couldn’t have found a better man to love,” Gabe murmured, his arm around Peyton as he watched Devlin guide the girl into the car, careful of her broken arm. “Someone who could have loved her back, given her what she needed. All this wouldn’t have happened.”
Peyton nestled against him. “She found the best man she knew.”
He couldn’t meet her eyes after a declaration like that. “She loved an ideal.”
“You accused me of the same thing.”
He grinned and looked at her. “I stand by it.”
She didn’t say anything for a long time, and he wondered if she believed him. He couldn’t convince her if she didn’t.
“Gabe, I’ve been thinking about this whole hero thing. I get it now.”
“What do you get?”
“It’s not the danger giving you the rush, bringing you back. It’s this.”
He was afraid to ask. “What’s this?” he asked anyway. Hell, he was Gabe Cooper, and according to Peyton, not afraid of anything. Except losing her.
“Knowing you did the right thing, you were brave enough to make a difference. It’s the greatest feeling in the world.”
He chuckled and kissed her fingertips. “Damn, Peyton, you’re bit.”
“How can I have written about people who were so committed to their jobs they put their lives on the line without understanding that? How can I have learned all this about heroes without wanting to be one? I want to be the best I can be. I had two wonderful teachers, you and Dan. It just took me awhile to learn the lesson.”
He kissed her forehead. “If you want to be a Hot Shot, I know a good teacher.”
Epilogue
“Cooper!”
Peyton straightened from digging line, tossing her braid over her shoulder, and looked at her crew boss. She wasn’t used to answering to the name yet; she’d only had it four months, since they married in January. Besides, around here, everyone who used that name meant Gabe. Howard stood with his hand on one hip and held the radio toward her impatiently.
“The IC wants to talk to you.”
A grin tugged at Peyton’s mouth as she stepped gingerly around flames to take the radio.
“Cooper,” she acknowledged into the mouthpiece, her lips close, intimate.
Gabe’s voice rumbled through the static. Jen had submitted his name to take her place as incident commander when she left the service to have her baby, and he’d shocked them all by accepting, then loving it. Why wouldn’t he—he got to boss everyone around now. “The edits on your book came today.”
Her heart thudded against her ribs. She’d done it, written a book, had sold it, and each step made the dream more real. It had all happened so fast, thanks to her magazine editor and her contacts. “How do they look?”
He grunted. “Like I would know. Probably some work here. Lots of comments. Hell, I’d rather punch line than do this.”
She had a feeling she might, too.
“I’ve got a shower reserved for eight, can you make it?”
She laughed. Idiot. Didn’t he realize others could be listening? “I don’t know—five minutes in the shower isn’t much incentive after a two-hour hike.”
“I can make it worth your while.”
“Not in five minutes you can’t.”
“Maybe since it’ll be two of us we can double the time.”
“Ooh. Ten minutes. All the difference in the world. I’m there.”
“Peyton.” His serious tone carried over the walkie. “Come home safe.”
Home. A tent in a fire camp she shared with Gabe. And she wouldn’t be anywhere else.
“I will,” she said. “Cooper out.”
About the Author
MJ is a four-time Golden Heart finalist, a three-time Emily finalist and a Maggie finalist. She is a member of San Antonio Romance Authors, The Golden Network and the Wet Noodle Posse. She’s written everything from short and sexy to epic contemporary to futuristic and paranormal. To learn more about MJ Fredrick, please visit mjfredrick.com. Send an email to [email protected] visit her blog at marywritesromance.blogspot.com.
Will her need to do the right thing cost them everything?
Anything But Mine
© 2008 Linda Winfree
Public Defender Autry Holton, honor-bound to defend an accused serial killer, is in a “shunned if she does, disbarred if she doesn’t” position. To complicate matters, she’s pregnant and hasn’t yet told her ex-lover he’s the father. The reason? She’s pretty sure he won’t want the baby.
After raising one family and suffering a failed marriage, Sheriff Stanton Reed never believed he was the right man for Autry. Then an attempted break-in at Autry’s home highlights the real danger she faces, and all he can think of is protecting her. When she tells him the truth about their baby, the past doesn’t matter. He wants both her and their child in his life.
But just as Autry dares to hope there’s a future for them, an act of homegrown terrorism shatters her trust—and threatens their lives.
Book Four of the Hearts of the South series.
Enjoy the following excerpt for Anything But Mine:
This had to stop.
Autry put her lotion away and wrapped a towel around her body. Irritation and unfulfilled desire had her nerves jumping and the worst part was she had herself to blame even more than Stanton. Sure, he was clueless about other people’s emotions, let alone his own. She’d known that going in. Now suddenly, she wanted him to change into Mr. Perfectly-in-touch
-with-his-feelings? So being pregnant had made her emotional and now completely irrational. Instead of sitting around whining about how blind he was, maybe she needed to show him where to go.
He’d asked for more time. That had to mean something.
They were having a baby together. She wanted to forge a relationship with him. He said the same thing.
What was she accomplishing by holding him away?
Sleeping in the spare room wasn’t getting her any closer to him, wasn’t in any way binding him to her.
So what are you going to do?
Taking a deep breath, she knotted the towel at her breasts. Before her spurt of courage and resolution could desert her, she marched into the bedroom and gathered her things. Her hands full, she slipped down the hall to Stanton’s bedroom. The door stood slightly ajar and the fresh smell of his soap hung in the air.
Her stomach turning slow rolls, she nudged the door open with her knee. The bedside lamp shed soft light in the room. Stanton lay on the bed, arms under his head, clad only in his khaki slacks. At her entrance, he glanced her way, his eyes dark and shuttered.
Her simmering level of irritation, with him and herself, flashed into anger. She tossed her overnight bag on the floor. “Just tell me one thing. What the hell is your problem?”
Hot Shot Page 24
